


it's just the present that needs some glue

by dabblingDilettante



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Body Horror, Claude's Discovers Edelgard's Animorph Opinions - Freeform, Edelgard Read Homestuck - Freeform, F/M, Gallows Humor, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:27:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26281141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dabblingDilettante/pseuds/dabblingDilettante
Summary: High school is great for Claude, even with people shutting down his great ideas for club activities and conspiracy theories.  It just happens to go a little off rails when his pseudo-enemy, President of the Student Council, needs help after her arm falls off in the courtyard after school one day.Or, wherein Edelgard is falling apart at the seams and Claude takes up a part-time job embroidering.
Relationships: Edelgard von Hresvelg/Claude von Riegan, Golden Deer Students & Claude von Riegan
Comments: 14
Kudos: 88
Collections: 2020 Ultra Rarepair Big Bang





	1. don't break the wishbone yet

**Author's Note:**

> I've wanted to write this for SO LONG and here we are, Big Bang-ville. The fic is done, this is the first part! My wonderful artist https://twitter.com/ZhenziYeen will be posting their art once the next chapter goes up. At that time I will edit this note with the link!
> 
> I will say that while this is tagged with body horror, this is wholly bloodless and has no gore beyond a body part falling off and being sewn on. No blood, no bone, no nothing. I enjoy that kind of thing myself, but I wanted this fic to be more humorous, so hopefully this comes across as such to you all as readers. Edelgard is a kinda sorta zombie here. Not so dead that she cant food but not so alive that her body parts stay properly attached.

“You're not trying to argue that the principle is an aniformer again, are you?” Hilda drawled in the midst of plaiting her hair into a braid.

Claude paused his speech at the front of the classroom to eye Hilda. He should have realized she was listening, regardless of her usual playful disinterest. That was why they were friends. He said, “First, it's called an animorph. Second.” He paused for dramatic effect that no one gave much attention. “Principal Rhea is absolutely able to transform into an animal. That's not the question here. The real question is -”

A sharp voice interrupted him. “If we can find an actual volunteer job so our club isn't disbanded by the student council.” Lysithea tapped a dry erase marker against the board. “Not about your new conspiracy theories.”

“I was going to get to that,” Claude said with a casual laugh. “That's why we're a hybrid club, you know. After school volunteer by day, supernatural research by night.”

Lysithea groaned. “Leonie, could you please take over. I don't think I can stand much more of this.”

The affectionately nicknamed Garreg Mach High School had a broad range of students on hand. After Claude had transferred in during second year, this was the niche he’d fallen into - the strange batch of kids who had started late, skipped grades, and comfortably dragged their way into the frame of high school.

From across the room, the projector clicked on, the start of another long slide show to follow. Claude looked up to see the slight look of apology on Leonie's face. He gave her a joking shrug that she only responded to with the rise of an eyebrow. Claude edged along the side of the room, glancing past his friends as he did so.

“We've got a few good options we can select this year!” Leonie called out. “We have the usual option for community clean-up at the parks. The student council is also looking for volunteers to help set up events this year. The local children's club can use additional volunteers and...”

Not out of any disrespect to Leonie, everyone in the class outside of Lysithea and Cyril were in their own quiet discussions and thoughts. Claude watched Raphael casually chewing through a protein bar as he peered over Ignatz's shoulder to watch him sketch another drawing. Marianne clearly wanted to focus on the discussion at hand, but was torn between it and the small mountain of assignments sitting next to her. Hilda quietly bickered with Lorenz with a spark of genuine enjoyment in her eye over his frustration. As Claude slid past, she caught his eye with a knowing stare, to which he rolled his eyes. Hilda always caught on when he was observing people and that was why they were friends.

He was friends with Raphael because Raphael was vibrant and kind and the kind of person to never leave you alone once he hung out with you once. He was friends with Leonie because she was hot-headed and easily frustrated and incredibly concerned for the well-being of other people. He was friends with Ignatz because enough jokes about drawing for him and commissioning him turned into genuine kindness. He was friends with Lorenz because every hero needed a villain and the two of them were nothing but regular dumb teenagers. He was friends with Lysithea because she couldn't take a joke, except for when she could, and because no one was able to beat him in chess so easily as her. He was friends with Cyril because he needed an annoyed teen to make him feel old at 17. He was friends with Marianne not because she needed friends, but rather because she was honest and self-aware and because he needed a friend.

Claude was friends with all of them because he needed friends.

As the meeting ended, Lysithea was the one to erase the board of club ideas and conspiracy theories. On the corner of the board, she rolled her eyes before erasing one last note. **Edelgard == Frankenstein???**

**

Claude was always the last one to leave the club room. Most of them took their time, but Claude ensured he dragged his feet in cleaning up and finishing favors to their benefactor for allowing them to use the room until the last person trying to wait for him lost patience and headed home. Ignatz biked home, Raphael jogged, Leonie drove Lysithea, Marianne, and Cyril home in her jalopy. Lorenz and Hilda both took their parental funded cars home in a stark contrast to their peers.

Claude, for lack of interest in what distant family had to offer, walked.

There were plenty of clubs at the once-illuminous former private school. Now public, a broader range of people were able to attend and that meant Claude could be there without much question of his weird background. It was surprising that a new, broadly first-year, student council had been able to petition for such a change. But from what he understood, its secretary - Hubert Vestra - had pulled off a quiet internal coup to allow several first years to take the majority of its seats. Thus, Edelgard Hresvelg became its president, Ferdinand Aegir its vice president, and Bernadetta Varley its half-unwilling treasurer.

The student council was another reason why Claude’s club was only half supernaturally focused, as apparently to the Hresvelg rule, supernatural concerns were not appropriate endeavours for an esteemed institution as the school they attended. Claude could roll his eyes and joke about the evil control of the student council, but he knew as well as anyone that for its seeming switchblade nature, it had done a lot of good. For how much the other students could complain, the old private school attendees and newer public populace got along surprisingly well and the club scene had exploded in its variety.

Even still, not many people stayed as long as his club did. A few remained on the track field and he knew the theater and choir kids would still likely be piled backstage, but as the sun would begin to set – Claude was left mostly alone on campus. Teachers chose to pack their bags and head home with languor in their step and a quick nod towards him as Claude sat akin to a lizard in the light. He watched people leave on his bench over the top of a book he pretended to read.

The evening was one of Claude's favorite times of day. Not only because binge-watching X-Files had told him the twilight hours were when strange creatures came out to dance. Evening was also when he could see best.

If anyone could choose a power, they'd probably do something like super-strength or the power to fly. Lorenz insisted anything you couldn't do by your own power was pointless, and Hilda insisted increased strength would also strengthen her nails, and Raphael said being able to stretch his arms would mean he could hold more friends at once. Something like what Claude could do was honestly a pretty shitty power, really. Especially for having a monster-hunting dad and a former valkyrie for a mother.

The teachers that left may have been tired, but they were all alive. A quiet light almost emanating from beneath their skin made that clear. Such a light was too faint to be seen in normal hours of day, but like this – with shadows stretching across the school between orange and pink reflection – he could see the life within people. It'd almost be useful if there were any aliens or vampires or monstrous beings otherwise, but he couldn't say for sure since the most he’d ever met was a few ghosts in the back corners of sleeping houses.

He did know Rhea was a little too radiant for a supposedly 45 year old woman, and he did think it was weird that most of her predecessors looked surprisingly like her, but his friends insisted he was being silly. Claude couldn't just point out that the whole “blinding” beauty wasn't about her looks, but rather the fact that she glowed like a neon sign. Really the only person he'd seen that seemed a little suspicious otherwise was a certain student body president.

A curse echoed across the courtyard to catch his attention. Standing in the shadow of the courtyard, dim and gray in the darkness, was a sharp figure. Decked out in the former student uniform, the one from when the school was still private, but garnished with flashes of red and gold along the sleeves. He shook his head. Edelgard was recognizable to a fault. Her knife-like posture had been diminished by the manner she leaned over herself, but he’d eat his book if it weren’t her. Claude clapped his book shut, but she didn't seem to hear. There was plenty he owed her as payback for all the trouble he’d gone through to get his club authorized. No matter how many reports Claude had submitted to her, she didn't seem to consider his club to be a valid gathering until Lysithea and Leonie took up the mantle to save it. In fact, he was relatively sure Edelgard threw his requests in the trash.

But that was why it was fun to mess with her. Good ol' class prez, the girl who never laughs, the most uptight person on campus, so wound up you'd think she'd pop like a balloon. The only person on campus who didn't light up as darkness fell. The silhouette of dull orange-red flickering like a dying light from her core. The last question he had on campus.

So he said, “Hey there class prez.” Leaned around her until he could see her face furrowed over her arm. “You need a hand?”

As she looked up at him, a rare surprise in her eyes, Claude realized what she held in the crook of her arm. Language left him as if the two of them had been sucked into the vacuum of space. Very much disembodied from the rest of her, bloodless and clean, was her hand. A part of him said it was a prop, but just as notable was her right sleeve that fell limp at its end.

Claude tried to swallow his heart before it had the chance to leap out of his throat. He finally said, “Cause it looks like your hands are full.”

Edelgard stared at him as if she didn't hear his unfortunate joke. Her lips moved, soundless, until he made out her quiet whisper.

“-Or later. I have to take care of this, but I can't just let him go. But I'm in no condition to deal with him, and -”

“Hey,” Claude interrupted. “You don't need to _deal with me_ , prez, there's nothing going on and there's nothing you need to worry about.”

Pulling her hand closer beneath her shirt, Edelgard said, “Indeed. But I cannot so easily allow you to walk free if you've seen more than you should.”

“So, what, that means killing me?” Claude laughed. The serious look on her face made him bite his tongue. “Hey. Hey, wait a... Okay. Listen, Edelgard, I get it. I get you being worried, but I haven't screamed or run away wailing about your.” He paused and gestured to her. “ _Condition_. So you don't need to jump to the extremes. You're supposed to be valedictorian right? You don't want something like my ghost haunting you and ruining your chances, do you?”

“There is no such thing as ghosts,” she muttered.

“Great, I'm glad you've got expert witness testimony on that important fact, but hey. Why kill the person who can give you a little help, right?” For all his bluster, he was scared. Claude was always a little scared, but this was something else. It wasn't like he'd been investigating her all this time for no reason, but it was like a joke. Like something that should have been impossible. Just like him. “Your arm hand car door problem?” She didn't catch his reference. Of course she wouldn't. “I can help. Just give me a chance.”

Her eyes narrowed. Cautious, she uncoiled herself and stood to full height. “You expect me to trust you?”

“No,” Claude said. “I expect you to have enough common sense to take a hand when.” He stopped himself. “I'm trying to make a point, not put my foot in my mouth. Come on, Edelgard. You aren't stupid.”

At that, she held out her hand. The hand in her hand, he corrected himself. Claude took it as if it would fall to ash, and found it to be just as weighty as his own hand, if a little cool. Edelgard pulled her school bag around and took a small clasped container from the side. From it came a needle and a spool of off-white thread.

“Tape doesn't work anymore,” she said as if it were a matter of fact. “Glue makes it impossible to move properly. If it were much else, I could handle it. But I can't thread a needle or tie something off well with one hand.” Edelgard paused. “I don't mind walking off campus with my hand in my bag and driving home. There's nothing stopping me from doing that, Claude.”

As if she were making a threat.

“Relax, prez,” he answered, falling back into his easy placid smile. It didn't do much to dispel the mix of gut-churning shock and elation at being right about something for once, but Edelgard seemed to accept it. “I'm offering a bit of help out of the deep well of kindness in my heart. And hey, once your hand is fixed? In my eyes, this never happened.”

“Fine.” Edelgard rolled up the sleeve of her shirt to reveal the stump of her arm. “I hope you are as good at sewing as you are talking.”

The skin was not healed over the stump, like some amputations he had seen in the past. Nor was there bone sticking out with veins ready to flow free with blood. Instead, there was nothing inside. As if Edelgard was made of air and darkness instead of flesh and bone, a strange darkness by which no light was able to break through. Old lines remained at the edge of her arm, pinprick scars of what he assumed were past indentions of her seamed nature. She shifted and he realized his curiosity would do him no good. Instead, he held her hand under his chin just long enough to thread the needle. Edelgard looked away, but held her arm up straight. For someone who seemed so sure of what needed to be done, he found it strange that she was not willing to watch.

“Any preference,” he asked as he fumbled with the placement of her hand. If he sewed it on wrong, that would probably be the end of his life, and probably justified. “For. Whatever.”

“Whatever you can manage,” Edelgard said.

Hiding the shake of his hands was no longer so easy. Regardless, Claude forced himself to breathe and stabbed the needle into her skin. There was no jolt of pain from Edelgard. Rather, she seemed ambivalent to the sensation. It was hard to make even rows of thread and Claude was terribly cognizant of the way he kept pulling the needle too high or too low, each time having to pull another attempt through. The only good thing – or perhaps the worst thing – was the fact that unlike when he held her hand, sewing through it was nothing like pushing through skin or muscle. For the evident weight of her hand and arm, there was none of the resistance there should have been to a needle. Where her skin was a mix of smooth space and rough calluses, to the needle, it may as well have been silk. As he looped the thread through, again and again, her hand seemed to almost fight against the way it fit against her arm, but it could not fight the hold of silver thread.

If he weren't so glad to be justified, Claude probably would have fallen over on the spot.

Though it took only minutes to finish his rough stitching, it still seemed to have taken years off his life. Edelgard looked at his work and took a moment to flex her fingers. They were stiff at first, as if refusing to follow her command, but quickly moved as if nothing had happened. She pulled a glove over her hand.

“Good enough,” she said.

“I'd say so considering I could have sewed it on backwards,” Claude grumbled, feigning insult.

Edelgard moved to walk away, but Claude put a hand on her shoulder before she could move. Funnily enough, that made her jolt, though she attempted to mask it.

“Before you go-” he started.

She interrupted. “I'm not telling you anything else, Riegan.”

“No, I was wondering what you think about Principal Rhea being an animorph. Is it too kiddy or do you think there's a better term for it.”

Edelgard's serious expression faded to something of squinted confusion before she shook her head and walked into the sunset alone. Claude saw light return to her form, however slight, and took his own leave.

  
  


**

  
  


Claude's uncle didn't greet him upon his return home. He didn't complain about Claude taking an hour to open every cupboard when cooking dinner, either. That was what kept their relationship stable, he supposed. When Claude walked out in the morning, his uncle's car was already gone as usual. Another car sat running at the end of the walkway, one a bit higher class than even his neighborhood would usually drive. Claude paused on the porch and waited for the car to move. Its windows were too dark to see who could have been inside. In the back of his mind, Claude thought about crime dramas and the usual crime boss Mercedes Benz. He took the warning and cut across the grass instead.

Matching his pace, the car began to roll down the road, gravel crunching under its tires. Claude kept his walk as casual as he could, stopping at flowers in neighbor's yards to enjoy the scenery. The car paused with him and took its time to follow until Claude gave up the ghost. He walked directly at the car and stood at its door. The window rolled down. Inside, a familiar face stared at him.

Edelgard said, “Get in.”

Claude flicked his nose and chuckled before obliging.

The inside of her car was as lavish and untouched as the outside. Leather seats, perfectly steamed flooring, and a dozen bright lights at the center console for every kind of tech there was.

“Wouldn't expect anything less,” he muttered under his breath.

“I'd expect you would be driving the same kind of vehicle considering who your uncle is,” Edelgard said. Claude stretched as though he'd said nothing. “Fine. That's not what I've come to discuss with you today.”

“Here I thought you were just repaying me with a school carpool,” Claude laughed.

“I came to discuss an agreement with you,” she answered, soundly ignoring him. “Per our meeting yesterday.”

“Ah, right. The animorph discussion.”

When Edelgard rolled to a stop at a sign, she turned to give him another baffled look.

“Do you not know what animorphs are,” Claude asked, slow and concerned. Edelgard stammered for a moment before Claude interrupted. “Okay, so Animorphs is this really long book series about the futility of war and dehumanization and this constant moral struggle, and also about kids who turn into animals. It’s pretty great. Anyway, they can only turn into animals for up to two hours before they’re trapped forever in those bodies and have to fight against the animalistic urge of Dog Brain and the like, so I don’t know if that’s what Rhea has to deal with or if she’s ever fought the Yeerks, but -”

“I am aware,” Edelgard muttered, “What. Animorphs are.”

“What?” Claude hovered closer, peering at her stony face. “If you’re a true fan, then how about you name three of K.A. Applegate’s top albums.”

“I appreciated stories about experimentation and futility,” she muttered. “I quite liked Tobias, if you’re about to ask any other questions, but that’s not the discussion at hand. So please stop attempting to change the subject.” Edelgard shook her head, as if attempting to clear her mind. “You aren't to mention anything about me to anyone. I realize you may have understood yesterday, so I should not have to explain the unpleasant fate that awaits you if you are to inform anyone of my secret.”

“What secret.”

“You know well what secret I am referring to,” said Edelgard.

“Do you mean the one about Ferdinand using your cravat behind your back? I hadn't thought you'd found out about that.”

“He _what_?” Edelgard started to shout, but quickly pulled herself together. “No, I am referring to the concern about my arm falling off!”

“What!” Claude exclaimed in the best look of surprise he could manage. “You should really get that looked at then, prez, I can't say that's healthy.”

Though Edelgard groaned, he could tell some deep part of her that she refused to acknowledge enjoyed the absurdity of their conversation. “All I require from you is a simple agreement.”

“Fine,” he said. Easy and quick.

Edelgard was quiet, but when he moved to joke again, she asked, “Are you not going to argue?”

“Why would I,” said Claude. His head bumped against the window and he watched Edelgard's reflection in the glass. “It's my life on the line after all.”

“You know everyone on campus,” she answered. The car slowed as it began to pull into the school parking lot, stuck behind the mass of cars arriving. “If anyone could inadvertently let this information out, it would be you.”

At that, he scoffed. “Well, believe it or not, prez? We've all got secrets. I get the necessity of keeping them because I have a few of my own too.”

In the reflection, he watched Edelgard startle at his words. Before she could ask anything more of him, Claude took advantage of the pause and hopped out of the car. The school day was, for better or worse, normal. After their early discussion, Edelgard had not gone out of her way to track him down and even in their shared classes, she didn't acknowledge him. Which he preferred. Hilda was able to hone in on gossip like no one else and if anyone could accidentally be complicit in his untimely death via secret exposure, it would be her.

After school, Claude found Hilda leaning against the last pillar before the parking lot, scrolling through her phone. He waved and said, “Unusual to see you not rushing home on a Friday.”

She sighed dramatically and shrugged at him. “Unfortunately, some things can't wait for the next club meeting.” Hilda waltzed over and around him to lean on his arm. “You know, you've got people asking after you.”

“Oh really,” said Claude. “You're so surprised that I'm that popular now?”

“I just think it's pretty weird to see the student council talking about it,” she hummed. “I know you're a troublemaker and all, but usually you don't get them riled up.”

“Well, you haven't heard that I'm planning on starting my own student council with a new advocacy based on dissolving the private school hierarchy to improve our school lunches and dismantle the current state of power imbalance caused by wealth disparity,” Claude said.

“I figured,” Hilda said. At that, she stood before him, an unfortunate focus on her face. “I just don't get why Edelgard would be wasting any time asking questions about you.”

“Oh?” he said more than asking. It shouldn't have felt as much like a victory as it did to hear that. “What's she been asking about.”

Hilda raised an eyebrow. “Less her and more her bird squad. Dorothea was kind enough to talk to Petra about it, who talked to Cyril about it, who talked to Lysithea about it, who talked to Edelgard about it. Edelgard apparently jumped high enough that she's already getting recruitment requests from the volleyball team, but _anyway_.” Hilda paused to take a deep breath. “Apparently, Lysithea asked Edelgard about why she's looking for Lysithea's friend's weakness, or something.”

“Wow,” said Claude. “I'm impressed, Hilda. That made even less sense than usual.”

“Thank you,” she answered with a flutter of her eyelashes. “It's quite the bit of gossip, but I think the juicier question is why Edelgard would be looking for Claude Secrets in the first place.”

“I'm just the newest target of the Hresvelg smear campaigns, nothing more.”

“That and,” Hilda gave a shrug. “The fact that you arrived on campus in a Mercedes Benz this morning.” When Claude's smile faded into a look of dead defeat, she went on. “Hey, it's not my fault. Lorenz would never miss who's jumping out of red carpet vehicles.”

“My uncle hired a luxury transport for me this morning since I woke up late,” he lied.

“Sure,” she answered, sweet and bitter as a honey trap. “Did he do that for you after he got you a Switch? Or when he took the whole class out for all we can eat sushi. That was my favorite part! And he let me order all the extra ikura I wanted. That’s why he’s the neighborhood favorite uncle that everyone goes to with their troubles.”

At that, however, Hilda's phone began to blare '[ Look What You Made Me Do ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WFiayjqHpm4)' with tinny severity. She cursed under her breath.

“Saved by the bell,” she said with a sigh.

“Gonna miss an episode of Riverdale?” he asked.

“No,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “My brother has some big promotion ceremony coming up and he can't bear to go through it without his darling sister.”

“So, when's it start?”

“Now,” she sighed.

With a wave, she was gone, and Claude finally let himself breathe. With the level of apathy Hilda had, she'd forget about this rumor mill by next week. With her gone, he took his usual vigil as pseudo-school guardian as people packed into buses and emptied the parking lot. His friends waved as they passed – Marianne taking her father's escort vehicle home on days she didn't have a club, Lysithea and Cyril taking the bus, and others by their usual transport. As usual, Cyril argued with Claude's joking insistence that he take another language class.

“What, and pick up Farsi like you?” Cyril rolled his eyes. “I know that big money kids like you get to travel, but even a _special_ school like this only has French and Spanish.”

“I’ve got a few books on the side,” Claude said, nudging him with an elbow. “It doesn’t cost anything to look, right?”

“Because you want a language partner or because you’ve got some insidious plot up your sleeve?” Cyril drawled. “If I’m gonna be useful with a language, I’d rather go with Spanish. I know way more people who use that.”

Lysithea dragged Cyril onto the bus before it could leave without them, interrupting the fake argument and leaving Claude on his own for the daily people watching. When the sun began to set again, he tracked the light in people through buildings and cars until one by one, each left campus and left it bereft of life. Until little remained but a dim spark, almost blue in the resolute shadow that swallowed the campus.

Edelgard took the back entrance out of the school. He didn't expect it, but even at a distance, he could recognize her walking across the track field and then to the parking lot to her distinctive car in the back. He figured she wouldn't see him, considering her track record of forgoing glasses most people could tell she needed. Claude almost laughed at the way she tried to avoid the seeming distaste of running, power walking with such wide strides that it would have been better to jog instead. Despite promising he wouldn't spread her secret – Claude couldn't help but be curious about why a half-dead person would be trying to run a student body in the first place. It wasn't like being a corpse would be conducive to management or scholastics.

Investigating a little further didn't mean he was breaking the rules, after all.

As Edelgard reached her car, a new vehicle pulled close. An Escalade, just as expensive as Edelgard's vehicle with pitch black tinted windows. Out of the car stepped a person in a black suit. Claude saw Edelgard stop so quickly she could have tripped. The new person – considerably taller than Edelgard, so maybe distant family Claude reasoned – seemed to talk and regard Edelgard like a child. For Edelgard's part, she stood proud as she ever did. Just a regular argument between family that didn't care for each other. Reasonable, considering most of the people he knew.

The shadow of the trees on the horizon began to grow with the setting sun. Claude watched it bathe the two in darkness, the way Edelgard glowed with a strange blue, and – when he looked to her visitor, Claude felt a shiver run down his spine.

Everyone Claude had met was alive. Even Edelgard, who was alive in degrees that went against what he knew. But the person in the suit – there was no light and no life. Growing up, his father had held terrible creatures over his head as if they’d crawl through the window to eat him. Creatures that could transform into animals and cannibals, ready to eat him for being so naughty as to stay up reading after his bed time. Terrible ghouls who pretended to be beautiful women and kind men to trick curious children into following them. Those were the casual stories his father and mother told him, and as he grew up he came to realize those stories paled in comparison to the actual things they fought each day. But in Claude’s life. Even being someone who could point across a city when he saw something unusual. The man standing across from Edelgard was the only thing he had ever seen that he could call a true ghoul. In a moment, the book was out of Claude's hands and he realized he was running. Forcing himself to a jog, Claude couldn't formulate any plan better than -

“Hey!” he called out, holding the note as long as he could. Both Edelgard and the suit turned to look, so Claude began to wave like an idiot. “[ Miss President! ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ddp53VZmnMw)”

Edelgard seemed to sputter some kind of question, but Claude couldn't hear it over his labored anxious breathing.

“Who is this?”

“No one, uncle,” Edelgard spat. “He is a student at the school.”

Claude glanced at Uncle Suit. His face was as sharp as Edelgard's, so he could understand the resemblance on that level. However, his hair was pitch-black and he had a menacing beard to match his overall vibe.

“Yep,” Claude said brightly, trying as hard as he could to emulate Raphael and Hilda. “Casual school nice boy. Miss President has been _so_ nice and said she'd help me get home even though I had to miss the bus to take a make-up exam.” He sidled closer to her and waved an arm around Edelgard without touching her. “But we don't have much time, because my parents are super strict!” Claude gave her a nudge. “Right, Miss President?””

The dumb-founded look on her face made another fact obvious. Edelgard was a bad actor. Claude brushed it off as another fact to add to the accidental catalog he was forming in his head.

“Is that so, Edelgard?” Uncle Suit said.

The mocking tone in his voice seemed to pull Edelgard back to herself and she answered, “Is it so hard to believe that I would be concerned about my peers, Uncle?”

He chuckled, but it made him step away and back into his oversized vehicle. “We'll have our talk later then.”

The two of them stood in silence as her uncle drove away, as if it were a spell that would break if they stepped out of the boundary. Claude's knees almost buckled as the car turned the corner, but Edelgard's grip on his sleeve forced him to stay upright.

“Don't tell me you actually need a ride home,” she muttered.

“It'd be helpful,” he answered. “After a near-death experience.”

In the car, rather than starting, Edelgard stared at the steering wheel. “A near-death experience? How so.”

“Someone like that,” Claude started, but stopped himself. She wouldn't believe him. “He just has the vibe of a jerk. Y'know how it is.”

If Claude had the choice, he'd turn on the Top 40 radio and veg out the way he did in Hilda's car. Edelgard's car had more buttons than he knew what to start with so he had no choice but to wither in silence.

As she drove, Edelgard finally started up the conversation again. “My uncle is just a strange man. He travels often. He was in town for a moment so he chose to visit me before I left campus.”

“Fancy man,” Claude murmured. “Real nice of him to visit.”

“He's my only surviving relative, so I suppose.” Her following silence was enough for Claude to fill in the blanks. “I am housed by him and my father’s old business partners. I am … not close to them. But I understand it is better than being homeless.”

“I'd say so if they're funding joy rides like this,” Claude chuckled.

“Indeed,” she said.

The cold in her voice made it clear it was time for him to shut up. The path she took back to his house was roundabout and Claude could swear it was because she didn't actually know where she was going. But she wouldn't ask him for directions and now it was too late for him to figure out which route she was trying to take. Claude closed his eyes and meandered through new club topics in the back of his mind.

“Riegan,” said Edelgard. He removed himself from practiced reverie and glanced toward her. Her eyes were wide, brow furrowed in something like - fear? Claude traced her line of sight to the windshield and the road ahead. “What is that.”

Before them was what could have once been a dog. He was relatively sure it wasn’t an insect, despite its six legs, considering the way it loomed before them as large as Edelgard’s car. With it came the same stench of death that Edelgard’s uncle had carried. Here, though, it was far more menacing as it carried its otherworldliness with a dangerous aura. Its canines stretched a foot long, dripping with something the color of rust, and despite the fact that it had no eyes - Claude was quite sure it was staring right at them.

“Weird cow,” he said before glancing out behind them. “Maybe we should just go back the way we came.” The car revved, drawing his attention back to Edelgard and the determined glare she wore. “Prez, what are you -”

Before he could finish his sentence, Claude bounced back against his seat as Edelgard slammed on the gas. The monster before them didn’t have a chance to react. Its body smashed against her windshield and flew overhead. The glass cracked, but it held. But where Claude expected the car to keep rushing down the street, he found himself jerked forward, only held back from the dashboard by his seatbelt. Edelgard braked hard and slammed the car into reverse. 

“Edelgard, I don’t think this is a great idea!” he yelled with some kind of laughter in his voice, giddy horror making his hands numb as he clung to the seat.

“I believe it is,” she answered.

With that, her foot slammed on the gas again. The vehicle sped back and half-ramped over the monster’s body, landing so hard Claude expected the tires to pop. But as they rolled to a pause, Edelgard ran over it one more time - this time slow and methodical. Its body gave under the weight and she nodded.

As they pulled away down the road, Claude considered whether his heart had beaten out of his chest or not. Examining the area, it seemed whole as it had before, but with what he had seen - he couldn’t say he was sure anymore. Glancing to Edelgard, he said, “Didn’t think you were the monster movie type.”

“Hm?” she asked. For how tight she held her lips together, one could think she wasn’t scared. Almost.

“Most movies people just hit the monster once,” he said, having to pause for breath between words. “This one movie, uh. Jeepers Creepers. It’s not good, but it’s got this scene. The sister hits the monster. Then backs up over it.” He nodded, going down internal roads of fond memories and easy falsehoods. “I always thought it was pretty funny.”

“It’s the logical action,” Edelgard explained. “It was quite sturdy. If I had simply driven away, it likely would have followed us down the road while we were defenseless to stop it.”

“That’s why you’re the class president, I guess,” he muttered. “For someone who didn’t know what that was, you sure know how to handle monster movies.”

“I…” She paused. “Indeed.”

A growl behind the car made the two of them turn around. While the windshield had been fractured by the beast’s impact, the back window was still solid. It meant they could see the ghoul in the street, meshing and melting as it drew itself off the harsh asphalt into solid form again.

“We need to go,” Claude started, but Edelgard had already set the car moving. He reached down to the glovebox and started rustling through it. “Do you have anything useful in here?” Registration forms and unused car information booklets took up most of the space. “What’s the point of having a car this expensive if you don’t keep salt or silver or anything in secret compartments!”

“I fail to see why those would be useful!” Edelgard yelled over the sound of her engine, already beginning to stutter from the damage it had taken with the monster’s weight.

“For this!” As he answered, his voice turned into a yelp as Edelgard jerked the car out of the monster’s jumping path. “It’s not like I expected you to have a sword. Do you have a better plan?”

“We drive,” she answered. “If I cannot kill it, I simply have to escape it.”

“And if you run out of gas?” asked Claude. “Or if it runs off to kill someone else instead. Or if it comes back after you think you’ve escaped?”

“Then I’ll deal with it later,” she spat. Taking a moment to compose herself, Edelgard rephrased, “The most important thing is surviving right now. The rest can come later.”

“Nah,” Claude said. “We can do it now.” The one nice thing about the area they lived in was half-decent cell reception. As he pulled up the closest river, he said, “I don’t think this is a ghoul, but hitting it twice may still have been a mistake on our parts. So if it won’t die from that much, we’ll just take the easy route.”

“And what is the easy route supposed to be,” Edelgard asked, an edge of weary frustration cutting her words.

“So, prez, lesson number one in monster fighting. When in doubt, take running water.” He pointed across a field. “Just cut across this and we’ll be homefree.”

“I cannot drive my uncle’s car across grass! I don’t have the correct tires for all-terrain driving.”

“Yeah, and they probably aren’t the right tires for hitting a giant insect dog either, but I think we’ve already passed that event horizon. So you can’t tell me you’re troubled by giving your uncle problems after this day.” The dog leapt forward with a bite and Edelgard managed to avoid it by a hair - leaving the side mirror to be crushed by its pincer teeth. “So can we _please_ take a dip? Preferably before we hit major traffic up ahead.”

A harsh sigh was her answer as Edelgard swerved into the grass, car slipping along the freshly sprinkled terf. The tires tore up messy lines across the perfectly manicured field, but that was nothing compared to the gashes the monster left behind. A small town river ran through the empty field, a prelude to more construction. The water was cut deep into the ground, two sharp stone ledges on either side of its quiet stride. Claude rolled down his window and began to draw himself out. Edelgard grabbed his leg.

“What are you doing?” she yelled.

“Getting ready to distract it,” he answered. “You didn’t think I expected you to drive the entire car into the river, did you?”

Edelgard opened her mouth as if to speak, but closed it just as quickly. As he turned to face the creature, he heard her yell, “How do you plan to distract it?”

He sat on the edge of the window, clinging to the inside of the car with one hand. In his other hand was one of the thick miserable car manuals. Giving a quiet internal prayer, he withdrew his hand from the last bit of safety he had and pulled a lighter from his pocket. It wasn’t really following the rules, but the other big rule his parents taught him was to keep something that could make fire. Be it for lighting a candle or warding something off, a small flame was better than nothing. As he began to attempt to light the book, he found himself wishing he had a bigger flame. The plastic-like material of the book’s outer cover smoldered and melted instead of properly catching. It caught along the middle as he opened the book, right to a page about replacing headlights. The car jerked and he dropped the lighter to cling to the car again. If he held the book, it would be okay. That’s what he told himself. 

Fire didn’t necessarily draw all things. But this creature whipped its head around like the heat of fire was all it could see. Almost as if its lack of eyes were for this alone, to follow the greatest flame it could. The thought of Claude’s own ability crossed his mind, but it was a fleeting thought as the monster leapt forward once again. The car swerved to dodge and the book flew out of his hand, Claude himself only remaining attached to the car by Edelgard’s powerful grip on his legs. 

The book flew close to where he had wanted, but not quite far enough. It landed in the grass on the ledge to the river, instead. The beast came upon it with all its weight and the small fire died in the midst of the carnage. It nudged through the dirt for the remains of heat. The car spun to a terrifying halt and he pressed his face into the top of the car. His entire body hurt. His legs felt like they were half pulled out of joint. But he figured it was better than being a pancake on the ground.

“Welp,” said Claude. “I’m out of plans.”

“I’m not,” Edelgard said.

She pushed him out of the car and he fell with an unceremonious thump. Before he could drag himself upright onto unsteady feet, the vehicle had already begun moving. It barreled into the monster. There was no resistance against the weight of the car, this time. This time, the creature fell back helplessly. Claude was already running to catch it, but he didn’t have speed or legs on his side. Edelgard was moving too fast to stop. Though the creature fell into the water, the car went with it. Her door opened before it could fully run over the edge and he saw her try to dive out. Its momentum kept her moving toward the water, rolling helplessly. By the time Claude made it to the ledge, she had already disappeared over the edge. Though the small river was shallow - it was more like a stream, he thought on active inspection - the beast was nowhere to be seen in the aftermath. Edelgard’s car was left, tip down in the water, and smashed beyond simple repair, but she was not to be seen with it.

“If you could help,” she yelled. “It would be appreciated.”

He turned and looked further down. Hanging onto the ledge, her legs dancing along its steep slope, was Edelgard. Claude used what little strength he had left to pull her up. His shoulders strained miserably against her weight and he wondered how long he’d be sore for. Edelgard dug her fingers into the dirt before she had fully made it up, as if he would have dropped her. As if clinging to anything.

“That was,” Claude tried to say, but he stopped from lack of breath. “That was definitely a decision.”

“Someone had to do it,” she muttered, laying face first in the grass.

“You that scared of water?” he asked, starting to laugh before the look on her face made him stop cold. A part of him wanted to apologize, for the shaking fear in her eyes, the quiver of her lips, but he said nothing of it. Instead, he said, “At least you made it out in one piece.”

“Indeed,” she muttered. 

But as Claude tracked his eyes over her, as if he actually did have to take inventory of fingers and toes, he paused. “Hey, prez.”

“What.”

“How many feet do you usually have?”

“Riegan,” she muttered. At that, Edelgard rolled over onto her back and pulled herself upright. Though her legs were still fully attached, there was a slump at the bottom of one of her leggings. It hadn’t occurred to Claude that she wasn’t wearing full stockings until now, as only one foot remained. “Damn it.”

“Ooo, language prez. Principal Rhea wouldn’t like that.” 

“I do not care what Rhea likes.” She tried to stand up, resembling a flamingo. “Now, if you don’t mind, I need to find my foot. And my shoe. Hubert gave these to me and I do not intend to lose one so easily.”

“Look, I didn’t see it floating on the water, so it probably floated down to the end. If we just make our way, we’ll find it! But I don’t think you’re in any condition to walk there,” said Claude. Neither was he, really, but who was he to tell someone to leave their foot behind to be stolen by giant night crows.

Before he finished speaking, Edelgard was on her phone. “I need a rental and a tow truck at this location. Make sure the rental has all-terrain tires. Charge it to his card.” In an instant it was closed.

Hardly ten minutes later, two vehicles had pulled up. One was the aforementioned tow truck, already setting up to pull the remains of what was once Edelgard’s car out of the ditch. The other was a near-perfect replica of the car she had just driven into a ditch, only this one was a shade darker. Somehow.

“Get in,” she said.

Considering his aching body, Claude found he couldn’t quite say no. The one good thing about parents like his was that he did heal pretty quick, but the time leading up to that was still a miserable experience. And healing quickly didn’t always do much about the soreness afterward. Edelgard was right about the tires, if nothing else. It made the drive less slippery, and by that note, less terrifying. She followed the stream to its end, where thick iron bars blocked an entrance underground. There her foot floated and bumped against the various sticks and smaller objects that pushed past it into the depths below. The two of them got out of the car and measured the distance.

“Your new car doesn’t have any rope, does it?” asked Claude.

After quiet deliberation, Claude finally drew the short stick and climbed down into the ditch. Edelgard wasn’t completely unreasonable, considering her note of her height (actually his comment) and her extra lack of foot (actually her comment). In his eyes, lacking an entire foot honestly meant she was technically shorter in the long run, since she apparently didn’t use the metric system, but apparently that comment wasn’t worth her time or response.

Given another hour of desperately trying to find a way to climb out of the given hole, culminating by Edelgard making another call to her mysterious phone people to bring the tow truck back for a person-sized situation, the two of them finally made their way back to his home in silence. The rental car rolled to a halt at the end of his driveway, but as he attempted to open the door, he found it locked.

“Before I can allow you to leave. I have a question for you,” said Edelgard.

It was inevitable. The monster issue. His readiness, his expectations, playing a game and giving away too much. His fingers twisted together. “I figured.”

“...I admit there are many I could ask, but. I feel it is fair to only ask one,” she started. “I spent the drive back here trying to choose, but there is one thing that has been troubling me this entire time.” She paused before asking, “Why did you panic?”

He relaxed. That question was nothing. “Well,we were attacked by a giant monster. I think most people would panic.”

Her mouth twisted into a note of frustration. “I am talking about before. No, I apologize. I should be clearer if it is you I am asking.” Edelgard said it like she had compiled her own list of reciprocal Claude facts. It would be funny if it didn’t make him so nauseous. “No matter who I've seen you speak to at this school. You have not panicked. So why then?” She turned to look at him, hair falling in her eyes. “What's different about my uncle, Riegan.”

For a moment, Claude wondered if this sick feeling in his gut was how his dad felt when he encountered monsters. If the heart-pounding anxiety was how his mom felt when she fought alongside. Yet, now he knew it wasn’t, and maybe that was worse to know. That the act of trying to survive a monster was so much easier than being honest. It was all so far away from the reality of his life and he laughed.

“I'm not scared of people,” Claude said. “But as you’ve seen today, I'm pretty scared by monsters.”

“Not the monster, my…” She trailed off again, but this time, realization dawned on her face. Followed by fear. There were a dozen questions Claude expected to come out of Edelgard's mouth. But what she picked surprised him. “How could you tell?”

“Dude screams abuser,” he answered.

“Claude,” she whispered. Like it was something to hide between them, even in a space so isolated. “How did you know he wasn't human.”

He wasn't sure if anyone had ever looked at him with such grim determination before. So Claude was honest. “I could see it.”

“How?” came as a demand.

“Just like with that dog thing earlier, Edelgard. Your slimy uncle oozes the scent of death and I can see it! Like how you have to know that the two of them are connected. Like how I can see how alive everyone else at school is,” said Claude. Louder than he meant, but that was apparently the right answer. “Everyone has secrets and I know you wanted to know mine, so there. That’s what I’ve been keeping from you. That’s all that’s special about me. We're even now.” He breathed into his hands and rubbed his temple. “I know that's what you've been looking for.”

“You could see him for what he is?” she asked. When he expected her to ask how he could tell, that question was refreshing. But Edelgard went on. “...then. How long have you known about me.”

How long had he been guessing.

How long had Claude been dancing around nervous realities like they were games instead of real consequences. People who weren’t quite right. Not quite normal. Like him.

It was awkward to tell someone you knew they were dead. “A while.” He waited a moment for an answer before saying, “Sorry.”

The doors of the car clicked open and Claude took his chance to awkwardly climb out. But before he could walk away, the window rolled down.

Edelgard was looking at him. In a quiet voice, she said, “It’s alright.”

Before he had the chance to formulate a response, the window had rolled up and she drove away down the street.


	2. but hope springs eternal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My! Wonderful partner has art for this chapter! It is a spoiler for one scene, so if you want to wait and read before looking, I will link it at the beginning and end! BUT PLEASE LOOK AT IT they have wonderful art.
> 
> https://twitter.com/ZhenziYeen/status/1303016916101947392

They didn't talk much after that. Knowing glances in the hall were easier said than done and there was still the weirdness of 'Hey, about you being a weird sort of monster corpse? I know all about that.'

“Of course it was Ferdinand's idea,” Lorenz started. The club gathered again, everyone let out a small internal sigh as he went on. “You cannot believe Bernadetta nor Edelgard would select a massive gathering like a festival for a special event this year.”

“Then what are we supposed to set up,” Cyril called out. “We can't exactly theme a fair booth around a volunteer club.”

“Sure we can,” Leonie said. “We just show them we volunteer! We make games about it! Or we can offer our services.”

“By handing out coupons?” Cyril scoffed.

“I could make art for them,” Ignatz threw in.

“Guys,” Claude interrupted. “Guys, we are clearly missing out on the best, most important opportunity this has gifted us.”

Lysithea put her foot down, both literally and metaphorically. “We are not making a conspiracy theory booth.”

“Hey, it's not conspiracy theories,” Claude said. “There's some supernatural, and some extraterrestrial and some other stuff, but it's not about the conspiracies.”

“Yeah, says the guy who was trying to convince us Edelgard was a Frankenstein like, a month ago,” Hilda said with a roll of her eyes. “Before you dropped it out of nowhere.”

“It's actually Frankenstein's monster,” Marianne murmured from the back.

Claude's loud thank you was drowned out by Lysithea yelling, “Moving on.”

Lorenz was right to guess it was Ferdinand's idea, but if one had to determine whose blood was going to oil the gears, it was obvious Edelgard had chosen herself for that task. She went to each club, individually submitting guidelines and editing requests herself, as though it would fall apart without her. It didn't earn her accolades, for the way it sent a mutter of frustration across the student body, but the student council's more favorable members did their best to promise it would all be worth it in the end.

And Claude could believe that.

Sitting in the back of the auditorium, he watched Edelgard hammer through a list of agreements with the theater and choir kids. From the track stands, he watched her balance our promises and requirements with the soccer team, football team, track and field, tennis, frisbee golf, bowling appreciation, and everyone in between.

Edelgard was something, even if that thing wasn't always good, but he didn't exactly find fault in that.

“Howdy, prez.” Scene: Cafeteria. The student council president walked through side doors from the gym and laid her head down on a table. The affable and handsome Captain of the Volunteer Supernatural Club greeted her with an undeniable strength of will. She lifted her head and said -

“Leave me alone, Riegan.”

“That's not how the scene goes,” answered Claude. He sat opposite the table and pressed his cheek into his palm. “You're supposed to gasp in surprise at seeing your old nemesis slash partner in crime and ask what I'm doing here.”

“This is a cafeteria. School just ended. I know why you're here.” Her words were muffled because she had not lifted her face from the table, but Claude could imagine the look on her face.

“And why would that be?” he asked.

“To harass me about the festival,” said Edelgard. “As is every organization at the school.”

“Oh, I'd never do that,” he laughed. “I know that if you had your way, my club wouldn't exist!”

“Then why are you here.”

“Just wondering how you're doing,” he hummed, terribly assured of the truth. It was a kind of morbid curiosity – the chance of a lifetime, really. No one could just ignore an example of Real Deal Zombie Movie paradise. If Mercedes knew Claude was giving up the chance to live the dream, she'd never forgive him.

He told himself that was why, anyway.

“I am quite well,” said Edelgard. Her face was still planted firmly on the table. “If you would please be on your way.”

Claude stared at her. “...Are you trying to hide something?”

“No.” It came a little too quick to be honest. “Nothing. I am resting my eyes.”

“Just sit up,” he said. “I'm sure whatever is wrong with your face isn't a big deal to anyone outside of a perfectionist like you. Like, even if your nose falls off, that’s half-expected at a rich kid school like this.”

Claude laid his head down on the table, cheek flat to its linoleum surface. For all Edelgard's attempts to stop such affairs, it was still covered in stickers and sharpie that returned with each harsh cleaning. She was a cycle of absurd decisions in the name of order and, honestly, it was fun to respond to.

“Your posture is a bit weird,” he said. Staring at her like this, the way her hair flowed out from her head like it was a source of water, made it clear how clean her posture was. Like a knife, cut perfectly from back to shoulder to neck. “It doesn't look too comfortable.”

“I can assure you otherwise,” she answered. “I am quite comfortable and will be driving myself home shortly. While your concern is commendable, it is unnecessary.”

Claude moved to poke the top of her head, but Edelgard's hands flew up to her ears to clamp tight on each side of her head. With that unfortunate movement, her shoulders moved up and revealed the clean cut of her neck hovering just behind her skull. Claude attempted to stifle his laughter and failed.

“I appreciate your clandestine reaction, but I would say this does not fit your usual character,” said Edelgard.

Claude laughed harder.

Given a second, he pulled himself together, but when Edelgard tipped her head up, he struggled to hide a snicker. Regal and dignified Edelgard, a representative of the school body, sitting with poise and grace and a disembodied head ceremoniously placed on a school lunch table that had been previously occupied by apples that could bounce their way to the ceiling.

“I can see why you needed the rest,” said Claude. He hid his broad smile behind a hand.

“I was planning to wait until most of the other students left,” she said. Despite her head being removed from its body, she had no issue speaking. “I am not inclined to embarrass myself by clinging to my forehead the entire way to my car.”

“But no one would care,” he answered.

Edelgard sighed as if there was some incredible truth Claude could never understand.

“I could just sew it back on here,” he went on.

“I would rather not risk random students witnessing you stabbing a needle into my neck in a cafeteria,” Edelgard muttered. “...And I do not have my kit with me today.”

“You're kidding,” said Claude. “The thing you need to keep you from falling to pieces and you  _ don't _ bring it with you everywhere?”

She sighed. “I am a busy person. Even I forget things sometimes.”

“So, should I be imagining something like an anime girl running late out of her house with toast in her mouth? I guess in your case it should be needles and a spool of thread in your canines,” he said. Reaching into his backpack, he pulled out one of the three scarves Marianne had knitted for the X-Files Volunteer Fan Club. “You know, we could just try a route of mine.”

Despite Edelgard's best complaints, he managed to get her head back on her neck and wrapped the scarf around until it was tight enough to keep the make-shift tower from toppling.

“This won't work,” said Edelgard.

“It'll work long enough,” Claude answered. “Besides, all we have to do is get you past the crowd.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “And then we're home free.”

“I told you I am not walking out into the bus crowd!” Due to her precarious position, Edelgard could not easily escape the casual lilt of his arm. Claude told himself that was the only reason she didn't move away. “Particularly not with you lounging as you are.”

“Nonsense,” Claude said. “No one'll care.”

The question of how far past the pale Claude had stepped was made clear by the moment the two of them left the cafeteria to step into the courtyard. Thankfully, they had missed a chunk of the bus rush, so only half the student body was still milling around the area. Less thankfully, several of those left were Hilda's friends. Because Hilda knew everyone on campus. Such eyes would be quick to fall on any group of two individuals rushing out of a room together, but much more so when those two were, well. Them. 

The student council president and one of the most outspoken organizers on campus, regardless of how seemingly relaxed Claude attempted to frame himself as.

“Riegan,” hissed Edelgard.

He blocked it out. It was fine. This was fine. People were murmuring far too loud as the two power-walked past, too fast to be casual, and this was fine. His brain was on fire and he was definitely an idiot but all of this was  _ fine.  _ For how far he had gone to avoid Hilda’s questions about the Edelgard thing, this was probably the worst thing he could do within the same month, but it was fine. That was a problem for future Claude and all present Claude had to do was have fun with the supernatural mystery he got to enjoy.

That was it.

So with significantly more fuss than either of them expected, Claude and Edelgard made a dash for her car – Claude trying not to fall into nervous laughter, unsure as to whether he was having fun or if he was just trying to forget, and Edelgard two inches away from hiding her entire face.

In her car, it only took a moment more for her head to fall off, but the windows were dark enough to hide that weirdness.

“Shit,” Claude muttered. “You know, I could drive instead.”

Edelgard was quick to interrupt. “My name is on the insurance. My uncle's name is on the title. I will be driving.”

“So, what, am I supposed to just hold your head up in the windshield and hope for the best?” Claude said it as a joke.

Edelgard did not take it as one.

Backing up wasn't actually too terrible when Claude could simply shove her head between the seats to stare out the rearview window. The main issue came from turns and simple forward driving. As it turned out, having one's eyes in the passenger seat and the body in the driver's seat created a peculiar sense of deja vu that likely would have led to Edelgard throwing up if she had anything connected to her esophagus.

“Don't shove my head that far up,” she grumbled, bumps in the road bapping her head against the windshield.

“You complained when I held your head in front of me and when I held it in the middle. Can nothing satisfy a member of the bourgeoisie such as you?” Claude said, flourishing a hand to his forehead.

“I can't see what you are doing, but I assume you're trying to tell me another bad joke,” she responded.

“Ah, prez, I'll instill a good sense of humor in you one day.”

After knocking a mailbox off its stand, almost running over a stop sign, and trailing into grass yards several times, the two of them finally reached Claude's house.

“Why'd you drive here?” he asked.

Edelgard said nothing for a moment, but as he held up her head as if to shake her, she said, “It's closer than my house. ...I don't think I could have driven much further without getting sick.”

“So, am I supposed to lock you inside my closet until we can get an Uber for you to get home?” he asked, more sarcastic than he intended.

“If that's what you want to do.”

Claude stared at the yard. His uncle wasn't home. It was rare Claude came back this early, too, so it would be unlikely for him to return for another couple of hours. And he had a sewing kit. And she needed the help.

And.

Really, Edelgard needed a lot more help than she was willing to ask for.

“Come inside,” he said.

“I'd rather not.”

“When you told me to get in your car, I did it. Now you get to do me a favor and do a thing when I ask you to do it. Quid pro quo and all that.”

It wasn't like she had that much of a choice, but saying that felt uncomfortable. Still, he carried in Edelgard's head and her body followed with uncertain steps. When she almost tripped over the stairs, Claude shoved her head in the crook of his arm and grabbed her arm. She yelled a muffled complaint, but he opened the door and ushered her inside before the neighbor could gawk.

“Sorry,” he said once they were inside. “And I do mean that, if you think I'm being insincere again.”

“No. I don't think you're insincere,” Edelgard muttered. “Rather too much.”

“Great. Now, would you rather me fix this up in the living room or my bedroom. Pros and cons for each. My bedroom is my bedroom and the most embarrassing place in this house. But my uncle could come home at any time, and he isn't the most open minded guy about me having friends home. He probably would like it less if the friend was a pseudo-zombie.”

There was a spark of surprise on her brow when he said  _ friend _ , but Claude watched how fast she filed that away. “The bathroom and kitchen are unsuitable?”

“The kitchen is just another part of the living room, and the bathroom. Well.” Claude showed her the bathroom.

“So where is your bedroom?” Edelgard asked.

His bedroom wasn't much special. A few posters. Pencils sticking from the ceiling as if he was practicing his Mulder audition. Three bookshelves and more books strewn across the floor with no place to go. A laptop and small pile of burned DVDs he'd made himself and bought from Ashe. Edelgard's body sat on the floor next to his bed and he handed her head off to her to find his sewing kit.

“I don't have anything great in here still,” he said as he came back into the room. Claude locked the door behind him. “I had a weird needle I didn't know how to use for clothes, but it's got a curve so I hammered it into more of one. Might work better for your situation.”

Edelgard was sitting prim on her knees and her head in her lap. It was funny to watch her face light up with a hint of surprise without any of the usual motions a person's body would make. “You ...”

She didn't finish her sentence, so Claude did it for her. “Was thinking about you. Yeah. I thought your straight needles weren't great. Those stitches I did for you the other day? I'm not proud of it and I figure if I'm going to do any work, I may as well be proud of it.”

He heard a snort from her direction. Claude slid close on his knees.

“Don't tell me. Was that a genuine laugh from President Stone Cold Serious? Man, I'm going in the yearbook for this one.”

“Don't flatter yourself,” said Edelgard, but she was smiling.

And that was enough.

“It surprised me, that’s all,” she went on. “Back when he was still here, Hubert had ...” She trailed off and Claude took her head back to begin the process. “He had a set of medical needles he had procured just for me. I depended on him. Perhaps too much.” Edelgard paused for a moment, which Claude took to thread the needle. “When he first found out, I was gluing my fingers back on with Elmer’s Glue. I didn’t know what to do. But he never seemed afraid. Only concerned for me.” At that, Edelgard chuckled again. “What surprised me most was how talented he was at embroidery. Do you know the reason why Bernadetta is on the student council?”

“Well, I’d assumed family pressure, but you’re clearly about to tell me otherwise,” Claude said.

“Indeed. She and Hubert were actually long-time fans of sewing and embroidery. In fact, when the two weren’t filling out council duties, they were attending the school’s sewing club. They were also quite close with Mercedes and Dedue, at the time. It was at Hubert’s request that she join. Since then, she has been an incredible asset to our team.” Edelgard paused again.

“If she’s staying on after Hubert’s left, I’m sure she has more reason than just that for staying.” His gentle jab received no answer, so Claude took the opportunity to ask a direct question. “Have you ever joined any other clubs, then?”

“No.” It was sharp coming out of her mouth, but Edelgard’s silence softened the blow. “I have my council duties. I can’t afford much else.”

“I just thought it was funny,” Claude went on. “Anti-social goth overlord Hubert Vestra managed to befriend the gardening duo of the school. I get that those two have some appreciation of horror movies, but you gotta admit. If he’s beating you on that front, there’s definitely something wrong.” Edelgard still said nothing in response. There was some part of Claude that had always wanted to chew her out. Tell her how absurd it was that she was the one who decided what club lived and died when all her friends, her peers, were the ones sticking their necks out for the chance to start something. “Ferdinand has his horse appreciation club on the side with Leonie, Ingrid, and Marianne. Bernadetta joined the comics and writing club with Ignatz and Sylvain. Petra does tutoring with Lysithea and Ashe, on top of her archery club. Dorothea’s practically an honorary member of half the clubs at this school.” 

Maybe he could wait forever for a response, or build her up as some tyrant and more. But Edelgard sat before him, headless and silent, as if accepting her fate. As if it was just another burden she had to bear in the face of who she had chosen to be. That bothered him more. Her hair, straight as it was, still stood like flyaways threatening to catch themselves in the crevice at her neck. He sighed and pushed aside his frustration and, choosing the right words, he said, “You know it’s not a matter of how much work you have. It’s a matter of allowing yourself to have more.”

Still, she did not speak. He picked up her head to face him. “Mind if I braid back your hair? It'll make it easier to sew this up without getting stuff stuck down your neck.”

“Please,” she said, dry. 

Claude brushed her hair out between his fingers. It was cool and smooth, but he could see the hint of split ends and dead hair that came with the length Edelgard had grown her hair. As he separated it, his fingers brushed up against the edge of her ears. They were warm, for once. He pushed the fact to a file in his brain until he could face it and plaited her hair in slow confident strokes.

“It's been a while since I've done this,” he said. “Used to do this with my mom all the time.”

“Is she...” Edelgard trailed off again.

“You can just ask,” he said. “She's not dead. Just traveling with my dad.”

“They work abroad?” she asked.

“You could say that,” he said. If fighting monsters and training people around north Africa and the Middle East wasn't working abroad, Claude wasn't sure what it could be. “I got a bit sick of the travel and asked for a chance to chill out in one place for a bit. My mom had something of a family member out here and I took the chance.”

Edelgard took his answer in silence and he wondered what she was asking in her mind. Claude tied off her hair and moved her head to begin sewing. If he weren't worried about being covert, he'd choose red. That was her color. Instead, he chose a soft beige and began the work of circling the needle through her skin.

“I wouldn’t know what organization to join,” Edelgard said, returning to a conversation he thought she had wanted no part of. A hint of something else in her words that she couldn’t quite say.

“There’s a lot of clubs on campus!” The curved needle moved through her skin with greater ease and he could sew a line of thread along the edge of her neck, a careful preparation base before the two sides would be connected. “You’d probably overwhelm the debate club and the quizbowl kids would probably kill to have you if you could cut enough time out of your schedule. The chess club is pretty relaxed, so you could swing by there for a game every couple of weeks and still count as a member. Maybe one of the language or travel clubs. Rich kids like you always know some French, right?”

Edelgard snorted. “My Italian is better than my French.”

“Oh, your majesty, I apologize,” said Claude. “How dare I presume such a thing of the Emperor of all language.”

“I have heard that you’ve been attempting to convince other students to join you for language study sessions, so I doubt you have space for the sarcasm, Riegan,” she answered.

“Listen, me trying to get my friends interested in Farsi is completely normal,” he said. “I mean, what’s the point of language if people aren’t using it?”

“Oh, of course,” said Edelgard. Though he could not see her face, the tone of her voice made it clear she was rolling her eyes. “I assume your parents are the ones who have instilled you with such ideals?”

“Well, my dad traveled a lot, so for him, knowing as many languages as possible was important to him. Arabic, Farsi, Kurdish, French, English … he probably knows more than just that, but that was what I was most exposed to as a kid,” he said. His dad did have to know as much language as possible - otherwise he’d never have been able to track monsters and demons to where they were sourced. “My mom was the same way and I guess that’s a part of why they’re together.” More because his mom was supposed to bring his dying dad to the afterlife, or something like that, but apparently she’d chosen to save him instead. Before the Valkyrie Boss or whatever had found out about it, his mom had been able to speak any language. It was harder without celestial interference, but his mother still had an understanding and appreciation for language on a global scale. “They both tend to speak their first languages the most comfortably, but they can understand each other perfectly. I always thought that was cool to see.”

“They sound like good people,” murmured Edelgard. “Why did you leave them?”

“I love my parents,” he went on. “And they are good people. Really. It’s just ... I can't always deal with. Their expectations, I guess. But they want the world for me and maybe one day I'll be able to deal with that.” He snorted. “Just not today.”

“I see,” she said.

It was like she was actively ignoring all his baiting. So Claude went for it. “What's up with your uncle, then.”

“I told you. He's my only surviving family member,” she said. “My siblings are dead. My mother has disappeared off the face of the earth. Sickness took my father from this world. And I am … I am what's left.”

A shambling collection of body parts and work ethic. But he couldn't say that out loud. “Why'd Hubert leave then? If all you've got otherwise is Uncle Monster.”

“I asked him to. I did not want him to spend his life helping me when he could have a future by simply going to college.” She tried to laugh, falling flat. “He tried to stay back a grade for my sake. So we could graduate together. But I was sick of depending on him too. I suppose I wanted to prove we could be our own people, but. You can see how I am fairing on that front. ...When he left, he gave me all the tools I should have needed, but it was harder to use on myself than I had realized.”

“I figure sewing yourself up in general is pretty tough. No wonder you've been dropping body parts like flies lately.” Though he paused to laugh, it wasn’t as much of a joke as he would have liked. “But I think you're doing well,” Claude said.

“No you don't.”

“You've already changed,” he said, as he tied off the final stitch. “You're asking others for help.”

Claude grabbed a mirror to allow her to inspect his work.

“You're improving,” she said, and she said it with a smile in her voice, if not on her face.

“I'm not a member of the Volunteer Club for nothing,” he said with a bow. “You know. If you’re that hard up for a club, you could always be a member of mine. I’m sure it’d make Lysithea happy.”

“I…” Edelgard brushed her fingers along the length of her neck, already nervously pulling at the thread. “I doubt I have time for your pointless supernatural fixation.”

“Honorary member, then,” he said. “It’s too late. As the president, I’ve already decreed it.”

Edelgard left without a fuss and what Claude decided to call a lilt in her step. At the next club meeting, he raised a hand.

“How about we mix it up?” he asked. “We're volunteers and I've got plenty of monsters on the mind. Why not set up a little game around it? Make some costumes. Get the spectators in on the fun. Volunteers can do a lot of community service by handling a neighborhood monster problem, right?”

“Costumes?” Hilda and Ignatz said at the same time, perking up.

“And it'll get us some positive attention by catching people's eye,” Claude said, nodding toward Lysithea. “So it's not that bad of an idea.”

“I could probably help,” Marianne murmured. “I'm not terribly good with people, but I can help with the set-up...”

“Dressing up Lorenz in a big People Eater suit might be fun,” Leonie said, a sly wink and grin thrown his way.

“Hey, me and Raphael might be pretty good at running the booth,” Cyril added with a shrug.

“Come on, Lys,” Claude said. “I think you might be outvoted.”

With a sigh, she slammed a hand on the desk. “I'll submit the paperwork to Edelgard.”

  
  


**

The festival was as good as the Student Council promised it would be, if not only because of the blood, sweat, and tears everyone had poured into it. The entire courtyard, down to the track field, was filled with little tables and set-ups from various clubs. Half the student body was in more than one, so just as many students were trading off to help run other booths and explore the celebration. The cooking club sold pastries. Annette stood at the front, excited to buy and just as excited to pull in more people to try Dedue’s newest creation. The art club had a face-painting set up ready alongside posters and porcelain to sell. The chess club challenged interlopers to beat their best, for a price. People sat in a little line, seemingly assured they could defeat Sylvain. The football team had set up an arm-wrestling booth and that was where Claude found Edelgard, her hands poised to crush the player before her.

“Wow,” he said, as she slammed her opponent’s hand down. “Didn’t think the student council president would run such a sick hustle against the unsuspecting football kids.”

Edelgard brushed her hands down her clothes as she stood. No longer wearing her usual uniform, she still went with the usual white-black-red color combo. A white blouse with flowing sleeves, black shorts that rustled akin to a skirt, and bright crimson leggings underneath. Her shorts came up to her waist with a sharp red belt to keep them in place. For how seemingly elegant the rest of her attire was, she wore grimy Converse for her shoes, skulls decorating the laces. That was a Lysithea touch.

Claude found, for once, he didn’t quite compare to Edelgard aesthetically.

She stared him up and down, ignoring his comment, before saying, “Lysithea forgot your candy corn horns.”

“What?” Claude patted the top of his head. Lysithea had told him his job for the monster fair was to cover his face in gray body-paint and get some kind of sharp teeth, so he had attempted to. That was the explanation for the cheap plastic vampire teeth he wore that turned every word into an awkward lisp and the paint that was already melting off his skin.

Edelgard drew a finger down his cheek before rubbing the paint between her fingers. “You forgot the sealant, as well. Did you do any research before making this attempt? I fail to see why you would be dressing as a troll for this festival.”

“Troll?” asked Claude. “I dunno, I thought this was a weird alien or something. I’m surprised you could tell I let Lysithea pick my costume for our monster table, did she tell you about it?”

Edelgard suddenly paled.

“Prez, you okay?”

“Yes,” she said, not making eye contact any longer. “Yes, quite fine.” Digging into her pockets, Edelgard pulled out a handkerchief. Maybe because her embarrassment had overridden her common sense, she began to wipe the paint off his face without regard for distance. Her hand holding his chin in place, Claude couldn’t quite bring himself to back away from the situation. “That’s better,” she huffed. “Since you came seeking me out, I suppose you finished with your shift already?”

“Well, I was going to help out the chess club, but it looks like they’re doing fine, so I figured if I had nothing else to do, coming to trouble you was the next best thing,” he said with a grin. “Besides, if I left you on your own, you’d spend the festival micromanaging and I can’t have you shutting down the amateur speakeasy set up in the choir room.”

“The what?” Edelgard yelped.

He whispered, “I could tell you that’s a joke, or I could tell everyone that you read Homestuck. Take your pick.”

“You tricked me,” she hissed.

“No, I hustled you.” Claude nudged her and the two of them hid careful laughter in the way they began to walk through the fair.

For someone who seemed to be dead, Edelgard delighted in small pastries just as much as the next person. She shied away from the butterflies Claude insisted should be painted on their faces and accepted awkward cat whiskers to be painted across her cheeks. She could throw a ball for the dunk tank with an admirable accuracy, sending Felix into the watery depths like a miserable cat. And the two of them could have fun. 

Fun until she froze in place, a terrible severity on her face.

“My caretakers” she muttered. Claude followed her gaze to her uncle, as well as a small group of others decked out in black suits. The same putrid aura of death accompanied them, just as it did her uncle and the monster the two had escaped. “They came.”

“Oh,” Claude said. He pressed his lips together tightly and an instant later, he grabbed Edelgard's hand and power walked in the opposite direction. “There's way more to see, let's not dilly dally.”

“Claude,” she tried to interrupt, but he had already dragged her behind a pillar and out of their sight. “I can't simply avoid them.”

“Yes you can,” he said. “Just because you're the student council president doesn't mean you have to greet every jerk that walks in here. If that was your job, we may as well replace you with a cardboard cut out and change your identity so you could walk freely. Which doesn't sound so bad now that I think about it. Considering how dry your 'family' looks, I doubt they'd notice the difference.”

That got another smile out of her. Another victory for the fact box. Or – Claude cut the thought. They were there to enjoy themselves. With everyone else.

But - she said, “I don’t trust that they’re here, Claude. Every time my uncle comes, something terrible happens. Like that dog. Like…” She trailed off. “Maybe I should leave before something comes.”

“They can’t do something that terrible with so many witnesses around,” he answered. “If they want to hurt you, or anyone else, you’ll have support. So stay a bit longer.” Her eyes were still clouded and downturned, and Claude just asked, “Please?”

“...Alright,” Edelgard conceded. “Where to?”

“Now, you have to see my booth.”

As they began to walk around the edge of the festival, Edelgard made a sound and fell to her knee.

“Are you...” Claude stopped in his tracks. Her leg sat out of joint, only held in place by her leggings, and he picked up on the situation. “Alright. Plan B.” He helped her crawl under a nearby unused table draped in a tarp. “Let's see the damage.”

“It's not pretty,” she muttered.

Edelgard removed her airy shorts first, putting them to the side. As she began to remove her shoes in order to get off the leggings, Claude's brain began to put two and two together.

She had to take off her leggings.

It occurred to him, moments too late to stop the events moving at light speed before him, that he had never seen Edelgard's legs. Probably no one in history had. He doubted Edelgard herself had ever looked at them. In fact, now that he thought about it, if no one had ever seen them before, no one could say they were real or that they existed.

So therefore, he didn't have to worry about seeing her legs.

“Could you help,” Edelgard asked.

“Sure, what do you need me to do?” he asked in return.

“Help me get this off the side of my leg,” she said. “The fabric is getting caught on the edge of where my thigh detached and I don't want to ruin these.”

“Oh,” he said.

As it turned out, Edelgard did have legs. This was a bad thing for him. The only good thing about the scenario was the fact that the tarp blocked out the majority of all light and left his burning face hidden from sight. He grabbed the edge of her leggings between two fingers, doing his best to avoid touching her skin. If Edelgard noticed, she didn't say anything. With his miniscule help, she pulled off the fabric and allowed her leg to fall free to the ground.

She sighed. “What a bad spot.” Edelgard lifted what remained of her thigh to examine the damage. “I'm terrible at sewing the back of my leg. I hate to ask, but I hope you don't mind...” She paused as she looked up at him. “Are you alright?”

“Oh,” said Claude, brain processing frozen in the moments before he saw her legs, trying to protect what few neurons remained. “Yeah. Fine.”

Edelgard fumbled in her pocket for a moment, but Claude moved almost mechanically for the small kit in his pocket.

“...I'm surprised,” she said.

“The festival is a stressful event,” he said, focusing on her face. It didn't actually help that much, but at least he was used to the small quirk of her eyebrows and the twitch of her nose. “You tend to lose pieces more when you're stressed, so.” Claude shrugged.

“Thank you,” said Edelgard, a little too sincere.

With the needle in hand and thread ready, he was able to pull himself together enough to look down. Edelgard's legs were legs. It didn't make all that much sense to be so troubled, because Claude saw his own legs every day. Saw Hilda's and Lorenz's and Ignatz's every day. It wasn't unusual. Most people had legs. But Edelgard's legs were never really out. She could roll in a Suns Out Guns Out tank top in his mind without a second glance, but legs.

Her legs were scarred.

Deep cuts and mismatched skin tone, more stitching than he'd ever realized Edelgard had needed to do. Strange delineations of scars marked her skin, as well, but not as if they were remnants of needle and thread. Instead, they were akin to writing. Markings. He wondered if these were the leftovers of why she was this way, but that was a dangerous question. Most were around Edelgard, the trust between the two of them as stable as a knife’s edge. Claude lifted her leg, thinking of its solid weight, the soft hair on the back of her thigh, the patches of smoothness between thin lines of thread. Thinking on her face, watching his hands, casually expectant, as if she didn't mind any of this. As if this wasn't intimate and embarrassing and too close and -

How close were they?

The needle went through her skin like silk, as ever. The motion was hypnotic and Claude could pretend it was nothing more than another pair of pants or another shirt he was trying to save from oblivion. Patching things together because he didn't want to lose them. From the back of her thigh to the top, and he pushed her leg down just barely enough to ensure he wasn't sewing it into her stomach as well.

“There,” he said, tying off the last stitch.

When Claude looked up, Edelgard's nose brushed past his, her face so close it blurred in his vision.

All the facts he had been carefully storing away in filing cabinets in his brain imploded and congealed into one terrible and wonderful reality.

“Claude,” said Edelgard.

A shrill scream cut his thought process short.

The two of them jolted away from one another and Claude pushed his head outside the tarp as Edelgard shoved her newly reformed legs into shorts.

The first thing he saw was people running. That alone wouldn't necessarily be terrible, when taking a list of terrible things people could be running from. But tables were being overturned and in the distance, he could make out the terrible aura of death.

Claude ran out from the table first in its direction. Edelgard was quick to follow. “Do you see something?”

“Like your family,” he answered. “But worse.” Claude ran through his options. “Get people evacuated. If I'm right, we'll need someone like you to handle that.”

“What is it,” she hissed.

“Remember how I told you my parents work abroad?” he asked, and went on before she could answer. “Long story short, they fight monsters, and we’ve got another one here.”

Edelgard wrenched his arm to pull him to a stop. “So why are you running toward it.”

“Because I know how to deal with this. You’ve seen what I can do.”

“You can die,” Edelgard said. “I can't. If not for the two of us working together last time, you wouldn’t have made it out alive. Between the two of us, you should be the one to evacuate.”

“I have a plan,” he said. “I know exactly how to deal with this. And besides.” Claude attempted a smile. From her responding expression, he could tell it didn't go over well. “You trust me, right?”

Edelgard ground her teeth, but she turned and began to yell. “If you are running, please move toward the track field or into the cafeteria!” She jumped on top of a table and began gesturing and Claude stared at her and thought -

He thought.

“I'm an idiot,” he muttered.

If nothing else, Claude was right about there being a monster. It wasn't a suit-wearing one, either. This one poured darkness from its limbs, with fingers stretching to the ground and a mouth for a face. Nothing like the dog. Like nothing he'd seen before.

“It's my lucky day,” he lied to himself before it slammed a table toward him.

Claude dodged a part of it. The rest clipped his arm and sent him reeling to the ground. It left his shoulder sore, but no worse.

“Come on,” he said, tearing a sheet from a table. “Olé!” He flapped the sheet as hard as he could in the opposite direction of the crowd.

Be it the taunt or maybe Claude's delicious blood, the monster lumbered toward him further into the emptied part of the courtyard. Each swipe was slow, but it tore the earth from the ground as if it was paper and left Claude feeling less than confident about his chances.

Particularly when he bumped against a wall.

“Ah,” he said. “Dead end.”

A small part of him reasoned it was probably better to die here than live out the embarrassment of his feelings for another person. A massive portion of himself screamed about his parents. His friends. His make-shift fool family, and then, some other small part of himself said.

“I can't really die before I embarrass myself further.”

Claude threw the sheet over the monster's head and tried to take the opportunity to run. As if it could see him through it, though, its fingers wrapped like tendrils around him.

“Shit,” he whispered as it began to crush his lungs.

“Must you always get into trouble, Claude?”

An explosion rocked the monster and sent Claude hurtling to the ground. He looked up past the dust to see Lysithea with her hand out, an almost bored expression on her face.

“Every story needs a damsel in distress,” he groaned and gave her a thumbs up.

“Raphael,” she signaled. “Cyril.”

Cyril shot an arrow carrying a rope into the monster and Raphael took the stray end to run a tight circle around it.

“Now get  _ down _ ,” Lysithea shouted. Another explosion smashed into the monster, burning through it until it collapsed. As Lysithea fell to her knees, the monster dissipated into ash. “It would have to be nonsense like this that forces my hand,” she grumbled.

“Lys,” Claude gasped. “Come here. Come close.”

“Oh no,” she whispered. When she ran over, Lysithea leaned close over him, checking his wounds. “Your ribs, were they crushed? I don't know much healing, but I can try to stitch it together.”

“No...I need you to listen. My final testament,” he whispered.

“No, no, Claude!” He could swear tears were welling in her eyes. “Not like this.”

But she leaned her ear down to him. Claude whispered, “You were in my Supernatural Club and you didn't even tell me  _ you had magic _ ?”

Lysithea sat up. Then she smacked him on the chest. Claude doubled over in pain.

“My ribs are still bruised!” he wailed.

“That's what you get for using me like that,” Lysithea grumbled.

But while the two of them had been sitting there, the rest of the club had made their way over, all clamoring in concern for Claude, and cheers of Lysithea, and about any wounded that were still in the area.

And Edelgard stood awkward on the edge of all of them.

Claude staring at her got the rest of the club to look over to her and then at each other before they slowly backed away.

“We've got a bit more to clean up,” Leonie said.

“Indeed,” Lorenz said. “I must find Ferdinand and ensure that he has contacted the appropriate authorities.

Each of them slowly waved themselves away, until only Hilda remained. She leaned over and whispered. “I finally figured out the reason you stopped talking about Frankenstein Edelgard.”

“Frankenstein's Monster,” Claude whispered back.

“Yeah, whatever. Because you're dating, right?”

Claude jolted up, sputtering, but immediately fell back to the ground as his ribs ached from the sudden movement. Hilda laughed and gave Edelgard a look.

“Hilda,” Edelgard muttered. “Greetings.

“Is that any way to greet an old flame? Gee, what happened to your leggings, anyway?” Hilda asked with a flutter of her lashes. “You don’t take those off for anything, right?”

Edelgard opened her mouth as if to speak, but nothing came out. She clamped her mouth shut and shook her head.

“Boy, you're no fun,” Hilda said. “Well, bye~”

Edelgard waited for Hilda to walk away before shuffling close enough to sit next to Claude.

“What’s that about?” he asked. “Seems like you two know each other.”

“Unfortunately,” muttered Edelgard. “First year was a considerable mistake.”

“Huh. I transferred here second year, so guess that’s why I don’t know the dirt.”

“I’d rather you didn’t,” Edelgard sighed. “...Regardless. I wanted to apologize.” Her hair hung in her face. “You were hurt because I was here.”

“No, I was hurt because of the monster trying to kill me.” Claude flicked her forehead, but instead of making her laugh, he saw her grind her teeth together. “Mind helping me up? The office might be more comfortable than the ground right now.”

“You should go to a hospital,” she muttered.

“I’m a fast healer,” he answered. “Listen, just. Help me out and we’ll talk. I’d rather have that than your apology.”

Whether she accepted his conditions or not, Edelgard still leaned down and pulled Claude onto her back. Though she was short, she was able to prop his legs up enough that his feet did not drag across the ground. Most people were still huddled inside the cafeteria, useless police cars and more useful ambulances pulling into the parking lot of the school. Edelgard took the long route to avoid them. Using a key, she was able to get inside the main building.

“The student council room should be suitable,” said Edelgard, her voice monotone. “I am the only one with a key and there are no windows.” She fumbled with the door, but once inside, helped Claude into one of the chairs strewn about the room.

“Fancy stuff,” he said, taking shallow breaths to avoid hurting his chest more. “We don’t have anything like this in the main classrooms.”

“It’s old remnants,” she muttered. “Previous councils insisted on such things and I couldn’t very well throw it away and buy new ones to match the regular school seats. If nothing else, it should be more comfortable than a plastic chair.”

“Fair,” he said. “Now what you were -“

She interrupted him. “I told you terrible things happen when my uncle appears. And he only appears when I …” Edelgard bit her lip. 

“When you’re happy, right? Or when you’re successful. Doing well for yourself,” Claude answered, filling in the obvious gap. “He shows up to hurt you. Because he’s a monster. We discussed that.”

“Stop making these assumptions as if you know,” she muttered. “He’s trying to teach me a lesson.”

Claude scoffed. “He’s trying to  _ teach  _ you that you’re supposed to fear him.”

“Then it’s working!” Edelgard shouted. She pressed a hand over her mouth. “You were wrong to let me stay. I’m … I’m furious that you could have convinced me to do so, at the cost of so much destruction, the potential of so many people being hurt for no reason at all! And you, running in as if you could do anything to stop it.” Now she was biting her fingers, face red and hands shaking. “How dare you. How  _ dare  _ you.”

“You’re the one who told me about it,” Claude answered - deadpan and tired. “I know that’s the reason you wouldn’t tell someone your problems, but once you do, you can’t put the cat back in the box. You try to tell everyone the cat was dead the whole time, but surprise. You’re alive.” He pressed his face into his hands. “I get that you’re angry. It’s hard to be told you’re allowed all this stuff you’ve been avoiding. It’s hard to accept you have problems. But Edelgard? You’ve got problems and the only way out of this is walking away from them.”

“You say that as if you’d understand,” she hissed.

But.

Claude looked back up to her, fatigue clear in his face, and saw her meeting his eyes. Young and scared and tired as well.

“I doubt I’d understand fully,” he admitted. “It sounds like a lot happened to you. Most of it bad. ...I’d like to know more, but I doubt you’ll be able to spill those beans easily. But. I like to think I can understand in part.”

Slow steps guided Edelgard to the chair before him and she sat down, holding her knees to her chest. “You said your parents fought monsters, in short terms. Could you tell me the longer terms.”

If it wouldn’t hurt, Claude would have laughed. Instead, he nodded. “Some of it, sure. ...honestly, that’s most of it already. My dad fought monsters and tracked demons for years before he met my mom. And he met my mom when he was supposed to die. She was something like a valkyrie, she always told me. Easiest terms she had for it. But instead of taking him, she … saved his life. Lost her wings, so to speak. They fell in love pretty quickly after that. When I was born, I suppose they were happy, but it made things harder for them. More dangerous. I almost died a few times, and sometimes I wake up thinking I did. But I’m not.” He stared at the ceiling. “That wasn’t the life I wanted to live. Waiting for death. I wanted to run away and spend my life reading and talking to people and finding answers. So. I left.”

Edelgard unwound herself from the tense ball she’d pulled herself into and pulled Claude’s chair closer to hers. “You can lay down if you would like.”

For a moment, he didn’t understand. Edelgard moved her hand to the back of his head and, slowly, helped him lean back and against her lap. It did help. To lay out. To see her face, concerned, over his.

“That’s all I got,” he said. “There’s more, but I have to keep some secrets close to my chest. If I gave away everything now, I wouldn’t have anything to bribe you with.”

The whisper of a smile appeared on her lips. “You have a complicated life, Riegan.”

“Only compared to most,” he answered.

“I am sorry. For yelling.” Edelgard’s hair could not shadow the nervous look on her face. “I simply do not want to see more people die because of me.”

“It wouldn’t be your fault,” he answered. “Just your uncle. What he does to hurt you isn’t your fault.”

“And yet it is. If he commits these acts because I am present. Because I exist. For the equation of affecting me. No matter what the outcome, I am an inherent part of that reaction. The product will always be my sin to bear in some degree.”

“If we say it like that. Then me leaving my parents behind to let them travel and live without my support could be a part of the equation that hurts them and the people they try to help,” said Claude. He reached up. His fingers only close enough to her cheek that the static electricity made her hair move to follow him. “Me convincing you to stay makes the guilt mine. Me helping you out makes the guilt mine. Hubert caring for you all these years makes the guilt his. Your friends in the student council supporting you makes the guilt theirs. Your parents giving birth to you makes the guilt theirs.”

“Your point,” she whispered.

“Your supposed guilt is spread out along all these people and all this time,” he answered. “Split into smaller and smaller parts until the actual guilt you should hold is negligible. Whereas your uncle, whose decisions are his own, carries the brunt of his guilt.”

“I can’t just believe that,” Edelgard said.

“You can choose to,” said Claude. “Just like I choose to believe that it’s better for me to live my own life, away from my parents. Just like I choose to believe that it’s a good thing I came here, because I’ve helped be a part of so many people’s lives. Just like I choose to believe it’s a good thing we became friends.”

“I am not used to sharing my burdens,” she said. “But I do believe it is a good thing to have you as a friend.”

“I’m sharing my burdens with you,” he said. “You may as well share yours with me. It balances out between the two of us. Don’t you think?”

“It is a nice sentiment.” Edelgard pressed her palm against his cheek. “But the two of us cannot erase my uncle’s plans for me. I have tried to petition to have him removed as my guardian. Tried to become classified as an independent rather than a dependent. Tried to run away. But he can always find me. He has the money for lawyers. He has my home in check, the will with him as executor. He’s always planned to isolate me. The closer I get to escaping his shadow, the more dangerous he becomes.”

“It’s a good thing that I’m a quick healer, then,” said Claude. 

At that, he sat up. The shock and fear on her face almost made the surprise worth it, but the disappearance of the pain in his ribs was still the best part. Claude turned back to her and put his arms around Edelgard in a gentle hug.

“If they’re a supernatural menace, I’ve got the best team on my side to help you out.”

Edelgard coughed an attempt to laugh. “A moment ago, you said you didn’t want to fight monsters.”

He pulled back and saw her red eyes. It was stupid because his eyes were burning too. A couple of fools. “I want to find answers. And I want to help my friends. And I want to talk with people, like I’m doing right now. I wanna be able to keep talking with you.”

Her face crumpled, teeth digging into her lip, as she pressed her hands over her eyes. “You’re impossible.”

“It’s a good thing you are too,” he answered.

Claude watched as Edelgard unwound herself again, unsteady breaths making her shake. Her hands landed on the sides of his face, and she pressed her forehead against his.

“I have to ask one more thing of you,” she whispered.

“You’re always allowed to ask,” he answered. “I can’t guarantee I can do it, but I’ll try.”

“Thank you,” she said. And then - “Could I kiss you. Just once. I will not ask for more.”

“No,” said Claude. But before she could wilt, he said, “You can ask to do that as many times as you want.”

It was funny that her lips were probably the roughest part of her - dry and picked at, the faint taste of iron evident from the scabs left behind. But what was nice was that it was her hands pressing against his face, and the gentle way she stayed only a millimeter away once she decided to stop. Close enough that he could kiss the bottom edge of her lip and watch her pull away, bright red and scared and glad. 

“I have a request too,” he said. At her quiet nod, Claude said, “Let’s stick together. For as long as we can."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yknow i am super gay about these two.  
> but anyway. one day i might come back to this bc i do love them. and then we can start the brother wars for dimitri and ferdinand. one day. one day.
> 
> https://twitter.com/ZhenziYeen/status/1303016916101947392


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